


With acid in my throat

by MilkyBabyBunny



Category: It - All Media Types, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Clothed Sex, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyBabyBunny/pseuds/MilkyBabyBunny
Summary: Mike doesn't say a word. So neither does Richie.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	With acid in my throat

**Author's Note:**

> I'd dedicate this to Strangersit cause they're why I wrote Wheelzier. But this is a really personal piece, so it wouldn't make any sense to do that. This does contain angst, I guess, but very internal, very... emotional - the kind of angst that often, a few days from then, you look back and think, 'Jesus, what the hell was that?' I promise they're fine. More than fine.

Richie had his fingers threaded through Mike's hair, thick and much softer than it ever looked. A strand of it wrapped over his index finger, while the pad of his thumb stroked over the top of it. At some point it'd become something of a security blanket for him. Couldn't fall asleep unless he was touching it, feeling the silkiness against his skin. The ends cool when he was over-heated, and then on colder nights, up against Mike's heat-radiating scalp. Win-win-win. Every win Richie could imagine with the added benefit that Mike couldn't easily just disappear from his side. At least, that's what it felt like, though he knew in the night he realistically went limp. Only for that very reason had he not pulled at Mike's hair in a painful accident, apart from once - stupid broken nail, caught and snagged.

At this moment, however, Richie wasn't intending to fall asleep. They _were_ in bed, but it was mid-day and Mike had left work early. Came in through the house like a rush of wind, sweeping Richie up with a fiery kiss, and hands securely latched at Richie's jaw. Pushed back onto the bed, Richie had fallen without a word, eyes narrowed and calculating. He'd seen what was coming, so there was no yelp of surprise. Although his body didn't seem to fully understand the predictability of it all, because a low grunt still rumbled deep in his chest when he made contact.

Quick to climb up over the top of him, Mike didn't intend to explain his actions unless Richie pushed for it. Which he didn't, mouth already halfway open and pliant when Mike licked into his mouth, eyes closed and blocking things out that Richie couldn't see, even as his eyes fell closed so much slower than Mike's had.

He pulled at Richie's shirt like the buttons would just fade away. And for the most part they did. Practiced. They'd learned their lesson long ago, both from Richie's laziness and Mike's intensity, that it was get out of the way, or be ripped off.

It was obvious enough to Richie, then, that there was no need for him to make any decisions - no need for him to help. So all he had to do was find somewhere to hang on for the ride. And that, ever so appropriately, was Mike's hair.

Not that he wasn't happy to accommodate, but in moments like these, despite himself, Richie felt his heart move two ticks to the left, anxiety leaking out. He trust Mike fully, but though the rest of his body reacted as expected, hips eager to meet hips, barest of touches sending tingles out from his nerves, he still appreciated the grounding of Mike's soft curls in his hands. Holding Mike's face close needlessly as they kissed each other over and over.

As Mike's hands played against Richie's ribs like keys on a piano. As he thrust his hips down into Richie's over and over until they both got over the idea of undressing - it didn't matter. Mike was gonna make them cum just like this. Because that was what he had in him. The energy he had left. The capacity and ability to let exist.

He had to extinguish the thing inside of him that made him feel like he was burning up into ashes from inside out.

Didn't want to turn to dust.

But he could already feel every single particle of himself, falling away.

Until he had Richie's mouth on his, until he had his body underneath. Reaffirming that he had weight, and mass, and that he wasn't just disintegrating into something that would never again have an effect on anything. He mattered. And Richie mattered. And he was going to suck in every moan and breath Richie let out between them until Richie made a pretty little mess just like he always did. And everything was going to be the same. The same, and real, and perfect.

He was gonna fight to find home, kicking and screaming and scratching, if he had to.


End file.
